


It’s a Wonderful (Vigilante) Life, or Every Time a Bell Rings, an Angel Gets Unlimited Data

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Angst if that's a thing, Missing Scene, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: If Oliver hadn’t told Felicity he loved her in 2.23, when would she have said it? What if the answer was “never”?A missing scene from 2.23.





	It’s a Wonderful (Vigilante) Life, or Every Time a Bell Rings, an Angel Gets Unlimited Data

Oliver Queen paced the five steps from his bike to the dumpster and back, keeping to the shadows between the street lights, his bow tapping a frustrated rhythm on his leather-clad thigh as he waited. Felicity had forgotten something at the last minute and told him she had to go back; a quick trip down the stairs if they were above the Foundry, but a mind-numbing amount of time in an elevator to get to the top floor of Queen Consolidated where they had just conferred with Detective Lance and Sara.

His frustration, if he was honest, wasn’t all about the waiting; as soon as she got back here he would take her out to the mansion, explaining on the way that he was planting her for Slade to take as “the woman he loved”, but not before he’d handed her a syringe of the Mirakuru Cure. And in order to get him to take the bait, Oliver would have to do the Unthinkable: Tell her he loved her so Slade could hear.

She’d get it, she’d play along. Slade would never see it coming. But God, if the rest of the team found out what he was planning, Sara would...and Diggle; Oliver groaned. If Dig found out what he wanted Felicity to do, Deathstroke would be the least of his problems. 

He was just about to head back inside to see what the hell was keeping her—despite his fatigue and the wear on his body—when his phone went off with a text. He dug it out of his pocket before he thought to question that it hadn’t been the normal monotone buzz he had set for his notifications: This one sounded like harp strings being plucked.

Oliver checked the screen.

YOU HAVE TO TELL HER YOU REALLY LOVE HER.

There was no contact information, no number. Oliver stared at it a moment, thinking. Some kind of trick of Slade’s? Or Isabel? He pulled off his gloves with his teeth and shoved them under his arm to reply:

WHO IS THIS?

AN ANGEL ;)

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO TELL HER. TELL WHO?

FELICITY

Oliver growled in frustration. If the woman in question was actually here right now she could tell him what was going on. Then again, this wasn’t exactly the kind of text message he wanted her to see. He smoothed his fingers over his eyebrows with a sigh before typing again.

I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

OK. BRB

There was a long enough pause that Oliver threw his leg over the Ducati and sat. And then something happened: First the world went black, and then it got very very bright.  
He had to put a hand up to shield his eyes until they could adjust to...the sunlight...streaming through the windows of his office at the top of QC. He could swear that’s where he was. 

“Where...am I,” he said anyway, because it made no sense at all.

QUEEN CONSOLIDATED. PRETTY DAY, ISN’T IT?

It took Oliver a minute to realize that he hadn’t needed to text his question to get a reply, so he stopped trying to get his fingers to keep up with his brain. But before he could ask any other questions he saw...his father?

“Dad?” His voice was barely a whisper.

YOU’D THINK SO, WOULDN’T YOU? THE RESEMBLANCE IS UNCANNY.

“If it’s not, then who—“

He cut himself off as someone else came into view: Someone short, with glasses, and blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. 

“Felicity,” he breathed, utterly confused. Because it WAS Felicity, but not HIS Felicity. OLDER Felicity. Not ancient, but definitely older, fuller in the face, still slim but kind of...fading, the way some women seemed to age. She was in a somber colored skirt, a dark cardigan, and—

“What...HAPPENED to her?”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

“She’s wearing...boring shoes.”

YES, SHE WALKS EVERY DAY AT LUNCH, RAIN OR SHINE. ADMIRABLE, REALLY.

Oliver blinked several times, watching Felicity cross the room past him as if he wasn’t even there, and then suddenly tapping her ear for what looked like an incoming call, even though there was nothing to actually see IN her ear. She listened a moment and then nodded.

“Oliver,” she called out without looking up, “there’s a call for you.”

“I—,” he began, trying to figure out if he should cross the room to her, when the Not-Robert Queen spoke up.

“Who is it,” he growled.

“Ex wife,” she elaborated flatly.

“Which one,” he countered, sarcasm interlaced with bitterness is his voice, but he tapped his own ear and turned away to begin speaking. 

“I, I don’t...” Oliver couldn’t finish, because he was just DONE, with all of this. The harp sound rang from his phone once more and he looked down.

IT’S 2044. THIRTY YEARS FROM NOW. WELL, IT’S WHAT 2044 WILL LOOK LIKE IF YOU NEVER TELL FELICITY HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT HER.

“Felicity...Felicity knows how I feel about her. She’s...a part of the team, she’s indispensable.” She’s my girl, he finished to himself. 

*snort* OK. KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT, BUDDY.

Oliver frowned in annoyance. Snort? Really?

2044!Oliver slammed a hand down on his desk in frustration, and across the room Oliver saw Felicity jump out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t smiled the entire time he’d been here, and now her lips thinned out in a line of unhappiness as he continued to watch her. Then she let out a wistful sigh and her shoulders sagged for just a second as she sneaked a glance at what had presumably been her boss for the past 30+ years. At HIM—future him. A future him that had apparently never figured out how to be in a relationship. A him that dressed—

“Is that how everybody dresses in 2044,” he asked incredulously. “Like they’re watching the Hunger Games?”

I DON’T MAKE THE RULES, OLIVER. 

“Felicity isn’t dressed like that. All...crazy.”

If a text could shrug, it did.

LIFE KIND OF PASSED HER BY. SHE NEVER MARRIED OR HAD CHILDREN, JUST DEDICATED HER LIFE TO OLIVER QUEEN’S HAPPINESS. OR AT LEAST SHE TRIED. HE HASN’T MADE IT EASY. 

Oliver growled in frustration. “No. The Felicity I know wouldn’t put up with his shit. She’d be long gone by now.”

There was a pause before he got a reply.

THE FELICITY YOU KNOW STILL HAS HOPE THAT SOMEDAY YOU WILL TELL HER THAT YOU LOVE HER JUST LIKE SHE LOVES YOU. 

Oliver took a physical step back, floored at the message. Because Felicity—his Felicity—couldn’t love him. It wasn’t possible. He wasn’t...lovable. 

GIVE YOURSELF SOME CREDIT. YOU’RE DAMAGED, BUT QUITE CAPABLE OF LOVING. AND BEING LOVED. 

A corner of his mind observed that he didn’t even need to verbalize his thoughts in order to get an answer, which was both reassuring and alarming. 

“How long has she...” he breathed out, unable to even finish the sentence. 

SINCE THE DAY YOU MET. WHEN YOU DROPPED THAT RIDICULOUS LIE ON HER ABOUT THE LAPTOP. 

He breathed in and out for several seconds, rendered weak with the realization that those looks, and smiles, and touches were more than just friendly. And then he thought of kisses he’d shared with Sara in front of her, unthinking. Of Russia...

Oliver swallowed thickly, suddenly sick to his stomach.

“And...the team? Is this Oliver still—“

THE ARROW? IN THEORY. THERE IS NO TEAM ANYMORE. THIS OLIVER WAS TOO HARD TO DEAL WITH, PLUS THEY WERE ALL SICK OF WATCHING FELICITY PINE AWAY WITH UNREQUITED FEELINGS. THE TWO OF THEM STILL FIGHT CRIME, BUT NOW IT’S MOSTLY CYBER CRIMINALS. STUFF FELICITY CAN HANDLE FROM HOME. ALONE. WITH HER CAT.

There was a pause, then:

THIS OLIVER TRADED IN THE DUCATI FOR A HOVERBIKE, THOUGH, WHICH IS COOL. 

Oliver huffed, unamused.

“I’ve seen enough. I can’t...I can’t.” Oliver dropped his head with a sigh and shifted his weight, miserable and exhausted. It was all too much: Slade, his mother, the city once again burning down around him...Felicity.

“You’re saying,” he ground out, “that if I don’t tell her how I really feel, that she will never say it either.”

SHE’S TOO AFRAID OF FINDING OUT IT ISN’T MUTUAL, BUT SHE LOVES YOU TOO MUCH TO WALK AWAY. 

IT’S THE PRICE YOU BOTH WILL PAY BECAUSE YOU ‘CAN’T BE WITH SOMEONE YOU COULD REALLY CARE ABOUT’.

Oliver stood for a long moment with his head hanging, listening to the sounds of his 50-something Felicity Smoak—the silent, long-suffering secretary—going about her day, and finally nodded. 

“Okay,” he said in a whisper. 

“Oliver?”

He blinked at sudden darkness, and realized that his face was covered by his arms because he was bent over the front of the bike. He sat back with a groan and found Felicity staring at him, one hand pressed tentatively against his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with concern, there was a bloody gash on her forehead, and her blonde hair was pulled out every which way from her usually-pristine ponytail.

She had never looked more beautiful to him.

“What happened,” he asked, shaking his head to clear it.

“You fell asleep, I guess,” she replied, her eyes running over him like she was looking for injuries. He huffed out a breath.

“That’s impossible. I don’t sleep.”

It was Felicity’s turn to huff, annoyed.

“Well, apparently you do.” She scanned his bike quickly and then met his eye again.

“So where are we going in the middle of Sladepocalypse? You said you’d tell me.”

“I will. Get on.”

From somewhere in his pocket the sound of a harp could be heard, and Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“Was that...your phone,” she asked, incredulous, as she threw a leg over the bike and hopped aboard awkwardly. 

He declined to answer, handing her back a helmet instead. But as she was taking it from his hand he paused, twisting around until they were face to face, impossibly close. 

“Felicity, I will tell you.”

She stared, transfixed for several seconds, and then nodded, and Oliver turned back to start the engine.


End file.
